


Rise Against

by NoirSongbird



Series: Rise [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Emperor Hux, Galactic conquest, Gratuitous References to Hamilton, Gratutious References to Les Miserables, M/M, Pining, Politics, a whole lot of musical references rlly tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-06-06 12:58:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6754933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoirSongbird/pseuds/NoirSongbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Kylo Ren gone for training and a suspicion that Snoke intends to have him killed, Hux plots to finally take the power he believes he is owed. Meanwhile, Kylo grows in the Force and begins to question where exactly his loyalties lie - and General Leia Organa hunts them both, desperate for revenge for the death of her husband and the loss of the Hosnian System.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Look Down

**Author's Note:**

> So! This took me a bit longer than expected but honestly I am both pleased and amused to have gotten it up on Revenge of the Fifth. This is the sequel to Ruse Up/the multichapter expansion of Rise - and so everyone knows what to expect, the events of Rise will come about halfway through this story! So. Let's begin.

The Finalizer felt almost eerily empty.

Hux was used to being alone on his late-night rounds of the ship, wandering to her farthest parts and dealing with the few night-shift workers he encountered, but it felt even hollower now, knowing that so many of her crew - officers and troopers alike - had been swallowed up in Starkiller’s collapse.

Hux paused in the middle of an empty hallway and ground his teeth together, resisting the urge to punch the wall in a very Ren-esque fit of temper.

He was, pointedly, furious. With Ren, and with Snoke, somewhat, but mostly with himself.

In front of Snoke, he had let Ren accept blame - not entirely unfairly, but the longer he circled the incident, the more points of fault he could find with his own work that day. He had not adequately prepared for sabotage from within, just for attack from without. That had been foolish, and he should have known better. He should have increased the guard on the oscillator, should have emphasized its importance to Ren, should have made sure to send extra squads once he realized they were under attack. He should have scrambled fighters as soon as they took aim at the Ileenium system, because the Resistance had been cornered and he should have known they would do something absolutely insane to strike back and try to stop the attack and save their skins. These were some of the same fighters who had taken the Death Stars; he should have known what to expect.

He had played that day over and over in his head, considering everything he could have done differently, in the weeks since as he scraped his command back together and batted off calls from High Command suggesting he come back and “discuss the destruction of Starkiller Base in person,” which was code for “submit to an informal tribunal so we can dick you around and maybe, if we’re feeling particularly bitchy, strip you of your rank.”

He was not going to lie down and accept that. He refused to be bullied by the circle of self-important Imperial relics that just managed to be the majority of High Command. Though he had his supporters, among the Admiralty and especially among the citizenry, there was only so much he could lean on that.

All things considered, though, he found that the thing that left him the most bitter and frustrated was that he was alone in command. For five years Kylo Ren had been at his side, and now he was gone.

That he had been recalled to Snoke for training when Hux was well aware he was most needed was a source of incredible consternation for the General. Hux was embarking on a campaign of conquest - both military and political takeovers were infinitely easier with Ren on hand. He was a terror in the battlefield, his very presence an intimidation tactic, and his Force mindreading made negotiations go so much smoother.

Beyond that, beyond missing his skills, Hux just missed Ren.

Hux would only admit it under pain of torture - and maybe not even then - but in half a decade of working with him, he had come to rely on Ren, as a fellow commander, as someone willing to challenge him, and as something akin to a sometimes-vitriolic but generally reliable friend.

(Any feelings he might have had beyond friendship were carefully locked away.)

Hux exhaled and pushed away from the wall, folding his hands back behind him and continuing his circuit of the ship.

No matter how much he wanted to, he could not spend all his time mourning the losses experienced on the day Starkiller fell. He had to go forward, to make all those losses court for something, if it was the last thing he did as a General.

And yet when he stepped into his quarters, no more tired but knowing he should at least try and relax for a short time to let his body rest some, the feeling of abject loneliness had not abated. If anything, it was worse.

He sat down at his desk, rubbing his forehead and eyeing the scattered flimsis on it. Although he was generally fairly organized and precise, he bothered less with it in the privacy of his own quarters. Who cares if things were less than perfect? No one else was going to see it.

He had blank sheets, as well, and a pen, because some things - not many, but enough - required a genuine, actual on-flimsi signature. Most recently it had been Phasma’s official pardon and reinstatement, because Hux refused to lose his finest field commander and oldest friend. She had been put in an impossible position, and he was certain that she had expected whatever Resistance force came through would be dispatched by the base’s other defenses.

It would have been easy and convenient to blame her for the fall of the base, but it was not her fault alone, and Hux would much rather have a useful commander than a scapegoat.

He picked up the pen and turned it over in his hands. Ren had often been his companion in sleeplessness before, never questioning the General’s absurd hours, simply bringing him a drink and indulging in conversation, letting Hux talk about whatever was keeping him awake. There was no one else Hux could speak to like that - Phasma had her own concerns, and she was the only person left near him in rank. He had no way to contact Ren that wouldn’t be through Snoke, and he didn’t exactly fancy explaining to the Supreme Leader that he wanted to talk about feelings with his apprentice, especially when Snoke had gone out of his way to make clear that he intended to quash whatever feelings Ren had left.

Generally, though, just talking things out had shown him paths he wasn’t expecting. Perhaps…

He drew a blank flimsi to him, and turned the pen over in his hand.

This was a stupid idea. Possibly the stupidest he had ever had, but really, what was the worst that could happen? He would write Ren a letter, fold it up, and tuck it into the secret compartment in his desk that until now had seen no use. No one would ever see it, and when Ren returned a husk scourged of his desire for connection Hux would burn it.

He didn’t bother editing or making it readable, just poured his stream of consciousness onto the page.

When it was done, he finally felt something akin to tired, like pouring out his mess of feelings had actually been draining, and it was still far earlier than he usually gave up and tried to catch his brief nap before going on shift. He folded it up and tucked it away, and then collapsed for the longest sleep he’d managed in weeks. 


	2. Cabinet Battle #1

Hux rolled out of bed feeling rested for the first time in weeks, and was immediately glad for it, because his comm was blinking with a priority alert. He was to meet with the Supreme Leader in less than an hour. He appreciated the lead time, if nothing else. 

In the allotted time, he was dressed, had grabbed a disposable cup of caf, and had decided to continue his streak of healthy habits by actually grabbing a protein bar and eating it. Truly, he was a pinnacle of excellent personal-health-related decision-making.

That his brief spurt of responsibility was fairly directly attributable to writing an unsendable, pining letter to Ren was clearly something no one but him needed to know. 

He discarded his empty caf cup and protein bar wrapper, carefully adjusted his gloves, and moved swiftly to the holochamber, stepping inside just as Snoke’s hologram flickered into view. 

“Prompt as always, General,” Snoke said. Hux inclined his head.

“Of course, Supreme Leader,” he said, as if he would dream of being late to a meeting with the man who (he could admit, begrudgingly) had made and could ruin his career. He had no idea how Snoke would react if slighted, and his position was tenuous enough that he had less than zero desire to find out.

“I have reviewed the strategies you have forwarded to High Command - both impressive and aggressive, General, I am immensely pleased to see that years focused primarily on engineering projects have not dulled your gift for tactics.” Snoke said. Hux crowed just a little, internally, pleased with the praise regardless of his feelings about the source. “I understand the Admiralty is refusing to give approval, however.” 

Well, there it was.

“Certain members of High Command are less understanding than you, Supreme Leader, regarding the incident of the destruction of Starkiller.” Hux said, keeping his tone and expression carefully neutral.

“How short-sighted,” Snoke said. “Perhaps you ought to persuade them in person.” 

“Sir?” Hux blinked, a little surprised.

“Return to Home World, General. Convince the Admiralty of the value of your strategies. Once you have their approval, proceed. With one modification.” Snoke said.

“A...modification, sir?” Hux asked. He did not like the sound of that, in any way, shape, or form. The last “modification” Snoke had suggested had involved firing on the Ileenium system, and that had been  _ disastrous. _

“I would like to see you lead from the front, General,” Snoke said. “As I recall, you were trained in special operations tactics, correct?” Hux swallowed. He hadn’t thought of his black ops training in years - it had never been what anyone actually expected him to  _ do,  _ even if he had both wanted it and excelled at it. He was at least sixty percent certain his father had sabotaged his appointment to a special operations squadron in a fit of misplaced parental concern, and ultimately it had been for the best because otherwise he likely would not have ended up on the  _ Finalizer _ , or as Whit’s aide, or as, eventually, General _. _ “I understand there are a few other officers with similar training aboard the  _ Finalizer.” _

“Mitaka, Datoo, Rodinon, and Phasma,” Hux listed easily. There was a certain amount of bonding to be done over having all mutually engaged in the harshest training the First Order had to offer, and the rest of them had all actually served in Special Operations squadrons before being appointed to the  _ Finalizer.  _

“Excellent. Aoki Ren is also under orders to leave Admiral Dubois and the  _ Deianara  _ and join you - although my apprentice is currently out of commission, I believe the flagship should have a Knight of Ren aboard, and further that your infiltration squadron will benefit from his presence.” Snoke said. Hux wanted to argue, but was given no chance. “See it done, General.” The hologram flickered out.

Hux still waited until he was outside the actual chamber to swear under his breath. In theory, it was a good plan - he wa sure there was a morale boost inherent in knowing that the General and an elite squadron of black ops-trained officers were on-planet during an invasion, moving ahead and striking priority targets. He even sort of liked the idea, in concept, and he would actually get to put all his training to use. 

Despite all that, something crawled under his skin - a discomfited unease that he couldn’t quite place.

Perhaps it was merely his distaste for the concept of dealing with the Admiralty in person, when he had been so stringently avoiding it. That was a perfectly reasonable, non-paranoid explanation for his concerns. Anything else was overreacting.

Still, when he sat with Phasma in his office a few hours later, discussing the planned infiltration squadron, that little kernel of doubt wouldn’t stop nagging at him.

“It’s...new, that Supreme Leader is taking such a direct interest in our strategy,” Phasma said carefully, regarding him with a raised eyebrow. At least he wasn’t  _ alone  _ in his doubts. “And I’m surprised he thinks it would be beneficial to take you out of command and into the field.”

“Coming from anyone else, Captain, I think I’d be mildly insulted,” Hux said, taking a sip of his second mug of caf of the day. 

“You know what I mean, sir, and also, I seconded you in a duel, you don’t get to be insulted by anything I say anymore,” Phasma said. Hux sighed in the put-upon way he mostly reserved for Phasma and Ren.

“You really can’t keep bringing that duel up like it excuses every one of your many instances of borderline insubordination,” he said, and then he set the mug aside. “I also have...concerns, about Supreme Leader’s choice to send me to the front,” he admitted, “but it  _ is  _ what I trained for, and given the tenuous nature of my current position…” he waved a hand. “I don’t think I have room to disagree.” Phasma hummed, and nodded. 

“None of us do, unfortunately.” She sounded genuinely grim for a moment, and Hux couldn’t help but agree with her assessment. Starkiller’s fall had not exactly been career-advancing for anyone associated with it. “I assume Navigation has already set a course for Home World so you can politic your way into getting to do your job,” she stood up, and gave him a short salute.

Hux sighed faintly. Having to get permission to do his damn job seemed like the repeating theme of his existence.

 

\------

 

Sitting in the third continuous hour of his first meeting with High Command, Hux was beginning to suspect he wasn’t quite as cut out for ruling the galaxy as he’d hoped, if ruling the galaxy involved this much listening to pompous old men argue about nothing. 

Part of him wanted to scream, the other part wished he had Ren’s ability to Force choke people into shutting up. Or just that he had Ren here, because Ren would undoubtedly do it for him, he was useful like that when he wanted to be. 

“And further,” Admiral Mathof, whom Hux had never quite forgiven for outright stating he believed Hux had slept his way into his rank, declared as dramatically as possible, “the remains of the Republic  _ must  _ be destroyed,” and Hux really very much wanted to strangle him with his bare hands, because as much as he was glad to be back on track to the point of the meeting, they had been discussing _trade_ with some of the worlds that had thrown themselves on the mercies of the First Order after the destruction of the Hosnian system. Admiral Dubois also looked like he was considering murder, and frankly Hux was not sure he had ever liked the man more than he did in that moment.  


“And if you would give me permission to carry forward the presented strategies,  _ it would be,”  _ Hux growled, and everyone in the room was suddenly staring at him. He stood out of his chair, leaning over the table and smacking his palms solidly against it. “We are  _ wasting time.  _ The longer I spend here, the more time the Resistance has to lick its wounds and rebuild. The more confident the  _ pathetic  _ dregs of the Republic become that they dealt us some great blow in the destruction of Starkiller. And I will not deny that it  _ was  _ a blow, but before it wa destroyed, Starkiller struck a much greater one. My weapon ripped the heart out of the Republic, and what is left is a thing staggering on in the moments before its brain realizes it is  _ dead.  _ Let me finish it. Let me tear out the Republic’s throat.” He took a breath, feeling faintly embarrassed because he was fairly certain he had worked himself into something of a fervor. “The final vote on my proposal is in four days, gentlemen. I hope you are all able to come to the correct decision.”

And then Hux swept his greatcoat over his shoulders, turned on his heel, and left. It was a mistake, and he knew it - he had likely offended some of the very people he needed to support him - but right then it felt so very worth it he couldn’t be  _ too  _ concerned. Besides, he had four days to soothe what egos could be soothed and get the votes he needed. There were seven admirals - two were utterly intractable, and two more usually caucused with them to form a narrow majority, but Hux suspected at least one of those two could be talked around - might have been impressed already by his impassioned speech. Three were generally solidly in his corner. 

He had four days of negotiations ahead of him. He could make it through that - and then it would be onto Snoke’s clever little assignment, which Hux was deeply concerned would be the death of him - quite literally.

That night, in his suite of rooms on Home World, he wrote a second letter to Ren. This one was tucked carefully into one of the inner pockets of his greatcoat, to be placed with its fellow once he returned to his ship. It was a little silly how much better it made him feel, but it was the closest he was going to get to actually having Ren with him until Snoke was done retraining his favorite attack dog. 

He would take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh right yeah reminder that i am findable on tumblr at
> 
>  
> 
> [songstressfox](http://songstressfox.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> ; please come enjoy my multifandom garbage blog and possibly yell at me about my writing decisions?


	3. The Room Where It Happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This series now has a [playlist on 8tracks!](8tracks.com/songstresskitsune/rise8tracks.com/songstresskitsune/rise) The track list can be found [here.](http://songstressfox.tumblr.com/post/144586765331/rise)

_Kylo was not sure where he was._

_“Where” in a metaphysical sense - bodily he was distantly aware he was still in Snoke’s great citadel, meditating to focus on the Dark Side, to find the strength he had been promised in his father’s demise, and to reach for the void that had been created when Hux ripped five planets out of the sky and ended several billion lives._

_But in his head, in the vision laid out before him, he was in a dusty city, one that looked like it had already seen the ravages of war. The streets were empty, quiet, and several of the buildings were destroyed. The air was electric, in a way only an active combat zone could be._

_Kylo stood on a rooftop over the unfamiliar, dusty city, and he was not alone._

_As in every situation, real or envisioned or sometimes just dreamed, Hux held every morsel of his attention as soon as Kylo’s eyes found him. Here, he wore a dusty uniform in browns, one that helped him fade into the environment, and his fiery hair was muted, and still he was all Kylo could see. He crouched at the edge of the roof, one foot on the ledge, and leaned over it, surveying the street below._

_Even dusty and dirty and with no visible subordinates, Hux looked fiercely in command, eyes sweeping over every detail of the city._

_Kylo’s attention was so fully on Hux he did not see the knife until it was far too late._

_It seemed to come from nowhere, but somehow also from behind, and it sank into Hux’s back and made the proud General crumple, blood pouring from the wound and spilling in the dusty rooftop around him._

Kylo jerked out of meditation, heart hammering. He had never experienced a vision that was so clearly and blatantly Hux in mortal danger, not even when he had almost foreseen the bombing of the conference - then it had just been a bone-deep sense of dread, a certainty that every First Order officer attending was in grave peril - and there was no discounting it. Even if he couldn’t be sure every aspect of what he had seen was _literal_ truth, he knew that it was real enough that he had to find a way to report it to Hux.

He unfolded himself from his meditative position, reaching out for his Master in the Force, pouring his urgency and his need to contact the General without bothering to clarify in words. Snoke would understand. Snoke always understood. So far he had remained mostly remote from Kylo in training, but that was normal, expected even. His physical presence was not required for him to monitor Kylo’s continued progress in the Force.

Snoke’s response came after a brief delay - _assent,_ certainly, but it felt somehow almost begrudging, like Snoke disliked the idea of interrupting Kylo’s training for this. Which, surely, that was it, Kylo was supposed to be focusing on the Force. Still, the Force had brought him this vision, he would be foolish to ignore it. So he moved through the compound and back to his shuttle, which sat waiting in the hangar, and booted up his comm unit, calling Hux and hoping he was somewhere he could answer his comm. And also that Kylo wasn't already too late.

 

* * *

 

Hux paced back and forth, trying not to feel too uncomfortable in his dress uniform. He had attended plenty of diplomatic functions over the years, but never one when he was in disgrace and preparing to beg to be allowed to pursue his plans to begin the First Order’s expansion into the Mid Rim. There were planets practically _begging_ to be brought into the Order, and here he was, at the seat of their power, shackled to a political process that was frustrating and circular.

This party felt particularly stressful because as much as in any meeting of High Command, Hux was alone. He had his allies on the admiralty board, of course, but he usually tried to bring one or two of his own officers to these diplomatic parties, most often Phasma or Mitaka; that was no longer possible. Phasma's position was as tenuous as his, and every officer was needed to run the _Finalizer_ with so many lost on Starkiller.

His comm unit rang, and he almost snarled, already built up on agitation, but he schooled his face to calm, because presumably it was important, and answered.

His calm did not hold - he wasn’t able to mask his surprise at who appeared on the other end.

“ _Ren?”_ That was the _last_ person he had expected to see - he had been expecting Snoke to keep them firmly apart, given how heavily the Supreme Leader had insinuated his displeasure with their...whatever it was they had. Partnership. That was as good a word as any.

“Hux,” and it was _so_ unfair that Ren breathed his name like benediction, “I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to catch you -- are those your dress whites?” He sounded surprised.

“I have to attend a political function in an hour or so - meeting with some financial backers of the Order, mingling with the Admiralty and some of the ministers.” He had to stifle a laugh at Ren’s disgusted expression.

“Don’t let me keep you from it,” Ren said dryly. Hux wanted to say a hundred things, babble out the confessions he had put to paper, tell Ren how much he missed him, how much he _ached_ for him, but there was...no point, except for making this harder on both of them. Besides, as much as it seemed there was still plenty of his Ren left, this little training adventure was nowhere near over. Who knew what else Snoke had in store to break Ren inside and out.

So he kept his ache to himself, and instead just said, “I can guess this isn’t a social call.”

“It’s not,” Ren acknowledged. “I...had a vision. It was...you died, Hux, but I can’t be sure how specifically literal it was and…” He stopped, probably because Hux knew he had to be staring in pale-faced horror.

“You saw _what?”_ His mind was already working at a mile a minute. The things Ren saw tended to come true - did that mean his death was fast approaching? It was inevitable, of course, eventually, but Hux had rather hoped it would be at an old age and on the comforts of an Imperial palace. He knew that was unrealistic, and so mostly he hoped for a battlefield death instead, but it was uncomfortable to imagine it might be coming so quickly.

“I wish I could just _show_ you,” Ren scrubbed at his face with the heels of his hands, “but we’re too far apart for that - so,” he took a long, slow breath, and only when it stopped did Hux realize that what he had taken to be a trick of the long distance connection wasn’t that at all - Ren had been _trembling_ faintly.

He was afraid too.

“Talk me through it,” Hux encouraged. Ren nodded.

“I saw you on a rooftop, in this - city, it looked like there had been fighting for days already. Everything was dusty - the streets, the buildings, you - and you were looking over it, and then,” Ren swallowed. “There was a knife. In your back. I don’t know where it came from, and like I said, I don’t know if the whole thing is literal - you’re going to get stabbed on a rooftop in some dusty combat zone - or a metaphorical watch-for-betrayal warning, but…” He glanced down. “I thought you needed to know.”

Hux considered. He was in something of a nest of vipers - being more on guard for betrayal wasn’t at all amiss. And if Ren’s more optimistic interpretation was correct, it was all a metaphor and he would be fine, just maybe a little politically worse for wear.

(If it was literal, he would...well. He would deal with that when it came to it, if he found himself on a dusty rooftop in a combat zone.)

“Thank you for the warning,” he said, and then he exhaled, feeling that might be a bit too formal. “Really, Ren, thank you,” he said again, with less formality this time. “Even if it is metaphorical, being reminded to watch my back in this snake pit is never amiss.” He wanted to reach out, to touch the Knight, but they were too far separated. Ren nodded.

“Stay safe, Hux.” He said, and then he cut the connection.

Hux exhaled and tried to stop the slight tremor his hands had acquired. He absolutely had to handle this with his usual confidence and grace.

So he strode into the banquet hall like he owned it, and proceeded to be as smoothly confident as he could manage. Kylo’s warning hung in the back of his mind, and he knew he was being hypervigilant, but frankly, in his position, he could scarcely afford less

He missed Ren, worse perhaps for having had a taste of his presence, because this would have been so much more bearable with his running commentary, since the social nicety of not reading other guests’ minds clearly did not apply to him.

Never mind that a little blackmail wouldn’t be amiss, in this situation, as far as Hux was concerned.

Late in the evening, Admiral Izar made his way over, and Hux had to keep from wrinkling his nose. He graced the Admiral with a polite smile and a nod instead.

“Admiral Izar. I hope you weren’t too offended by my closing at the last meeting.” He said.

“Not at all,” Izar replied, and Hux did not need the Force to know he was lying through his teeth. “I wish to extend you an invitation, General, to a private meeting with myself and Admiral Mathof, so that we might discuss your proposal and how it might be passed.”

“I would be delighted,” Hux said, even as he felt a surge of wariness - but no, he was being paranoid.This could not be the knife in the back Kylo had foreseen; they wouldn’t _dare._

“After the banquet tonight, then,” Izar said, and he strode off.

 

* * *

 

Hux suspected strongly that someday Izar would paint a very self-aggrandizing picture of the circumstances that led Hux to be sitting in his parlor with Admiral Mathof, over admittedly excellent drinks and desserts. Izar had good taste in whiskey, and his wife was both genuinely charming and an excellent cook. She had nearly fainted seeing General Hux at her doorstep, and had all but bustled him in, and Hux was mildly surprised she hadn’t asked him to sign anything.

The group seated in that sitting room felt like the setup to a joke. _Two Imperials and an Exile-born walk into a meeting..._

“To business?” Mathof offered, once they were appreciably and obviously settled.

“To business,” Hux agreed. “I suspect you want something from me, gentlemen?”

“Coruscant,” Mathof said, without further preamble. Hux raised his eyebrows, taking a sip of his drink and urging Mathof to continue without words. “You wish to build an empire, General? Promise us Coruscant as a proper Imperial capitol, and your best efforts at restoring all wealth and property seized by the Republic after the Empire’s fall. Home World is fine for our current situation, and will make a fine trade hub, but it cannot be the political center of a fully galactic Empire.”

It was an ongoing point of contention, Hux knew it. Thew squabble over where the First Order’s seat of power would be was _vicious._ Some wanted them to remain on Home World, safe and protected in the Unknown Regions; others wanted a proper capitol at Coruscant; still others proposed the Republic model of a rotating capitol. It was a mess, but ultimately, Hux expected to be the one having final say, as the highest authority in the Order who gave a shit. (Snoke did not, frankly, give a shit.) So that was the trade. Promise the old and eternal capitol, the city-planet the New Republic had abandoned, would be the new seat of the First Order’s power, and earn the support he needed for his plans.

Elegant. Simple. _Politics._

“Is that all,” Hux said dryly. “You realize that you getting what you want requires that my campaign succeeds.”

“Neither of us doubts that it will,” Izar conceded, sounding slightly displeased. “Promise us Coruscant, and the proper restoration of our positions, and we will support you.”

Hux considered. It was a remarkably small thing - a new capitol, traded for his ability to give the First Order a seat of power at all.

“We also want your personal reassurance,” Mathof said, “that we will remain in positions of command.”

“Obviously,” Hux acknowledged. So, fine. If that was all it took, that was all it took. “I am so glad we could come to an agreement, gentlemen.” Izar raised his glass.

“To Coruscant, and to the Empire Resurgent,” he said.

Hux could drink to that.


End file.
